


Sleepy Drunk

by MykEsprit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror!Draco, Drunk Harry, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 00:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: Draco takes a drunk Harry back to Grimmauld Place—and is surprised to find Hermione Granger also living there. Written for HP Mini Fest 2018.





	Sleepy Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling.
> 
> Written for HP Mini Fest 2018. Thanks to the wonderful mods of this fest!
> 
> Prompt: What do you do when you've been assigned to take your drunk boss home from your Christmas party?

There are many types of drunks, and Harry Potter is the worst kind—the sleepy drunk. Three shots of tequila in and Lightning Wonder’s already got his scar glued to the sticky bar top.

“Ya gotta get ‘im outta here.” The grizzled bartender points a stubby thumb to the exit. “Not good for business, even if he  _is_ Harry Potter.”

We all glance warily at each other.

“Guess that’s your cue, Weasley,” I drawl. “Time to tuck your boyfriend in bed before the bartender kicks us all out.”

“Aw, come on! Can’t you just tell him to let Harry sleep it off in the corner?" Weasley whines. "You’re the one who booked this bar for our Christmas party, so he has to listen to you.”

“For the last time,"—I pinch the bridge of my nose—"this isn’t a Christmas party. Longbottom asked me what I was doing for the holidays, and I told him I was planning to get shitfaced here through Boxing Day. Next thing I know, the entire Auror department shows up.”

“We couldn’t have let you spend the holidays alone, mate.” Longbottom raises his half-empty bottle of beer. “Friends don’t let friends drink alone.”

“No, we don’t,” pipes Parkinson. She and Longbottom clink bottles before taking a long pull of their drinks.

“Right, you’re here to keep me company,” I mutter. “I’m sure it has nothing _at all_ to do with getting away from your nagging spouses and screaming brats for a night.”

All Aurors within earshot shake their heads and protest with wide-eyed innocence.

“I hope none of you ever get caught for interrogation. You’re all terrible liars.”

“All right, _all right_! But do you know just how  _loud_  twin toddlers are?" Weasley grabs me by the shoulders, his face twisted in a mask of desperation. "Please, mate. Please take Harry home so I can stay in this bar full of sad drunks and get a few more hours of peace and quiet.”

“Fine. I will.” I shake Weasley’s freckled paws off. “But  _only_  because I find your life more pathetic than mine.”

A relieved smile grows on Weasley’s face. “Thank you. Bless you.” He signals the bartender for another drink and bounces away.

With a heavy sigh, I turn to our leader, who is now gently snoring. “Okay, Potter. Guess I’m the lucky bastard who gets to take you home tonight.” My face scrunches up as I register my words. “Ugh, I’m so glad you didn’t hear that.”

* * *

“Aloha-mow-rah,” Potter slurs as he waves his wand over the doorknob. The two of us stand on the darkened stoop of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Well,  _I’m_  standing. Potter leans against me with his arm slung over my shoulders; I call on the last scraps of decency in my soul to not leave the drunken git to freeze on his doorstep.

“For fuck’s sake. I highly doubt you can open the door to Grimmauld Place with a simple  _Alohomora_.” I scoff.

“’f course, it’ll work.” Potter waves his wand again and yells, “A- _low_ -ha,  _mow_ -rah!”

I roll my eyes. “Damn it, Potter—”

The knob clicks.

“See?” Potter throws me a lopsided smile. “Told ya.”

“What’s with all the screaming out here?” The door squeaks open, and I’m met with a familiar face. “Oh! What—”

“Granger?” My back stiffens as I take in her presence. “You live here?”

I run into her all the time at the Ministry—what with Potter and Weasley being my boss and partner, respectively.  Whenever I see her, she’s always dressed in smart professional robes, her hair done up in a sensible bun or plait. Personally, I find her easy on the eyes—not that I ever let on.

Now, she’s obviously just rolled out of bed—her curls unbound and wild, a thin floral dressing gown wrapped around her small frame. And, damn it, she’s even more beautiful in this state, but I find myself suddenly flooded with disappointment… 

“Hermione!” Potter jumps from my hold and pulls Granger in for a hug. “I opened the door! Did you see me do it?”

Granger laughs as she wraps her arms around Potter’s waist. “Oh, I sure did, Harry.” Her eyes twinkle as she meets my gaze. “Had fun at your Christmas party?”

“Yep.” Potter wrenches from her embrace and stumbles to the steep staircase. “I was going to stay longer, but Malfoy said he really wanted to take me home with him.” 

“Not at all what I said,” I interject.

“Did so.” Potter makes it two steps up before losing his balance and opts to crawl instead.

Granger groans. “Oh—Harry—” She turns and gives me a sheepish smile. “Will you please help me take Harry upstairs? It will only take a minute.”

I really don't want to; I have no desire to step a foot inside their bedroom. But she gives me this look with those eyes—brown like aged cognac and slightly too big for her delicate features. It’s a wonder that Potter and Weasley got anything done at Hogwarts, what with those distracting eyes always trained on them—

“Malfoy?” She arches a brow.

I blink, shaking my head slightly at my foolishness. “Yeah. Yes.” I follow her to the staircase, taking Potter’s arm as she goes to his other side.

“How many drinks did he get to?” Her voice is strained, and out of the corner of my eye, she struggles to support Potter as we ascend.

I hike up my shoulders, taking the brunt of Potter's dead weight. “Three.”

“Hmm, sounds about right.” She laughs as we reach the top of the stairs.

We head into a bedroom, and I observe my surroundings surreptitiously. The room is done up with simple, dark-stained furniture. A stack of Potter’s jumpers lies neatly on a dresser. The desk across the room holds a pile of scrolls with Auror seals.

Aside from her picture among a small collection on the bedside table, there are no signs of Hermione Granger in the tidy bedroom.

She lets go of Potter so she can pull back the burgundy comforter. None too gently, I deposit my drunken boss on the mattress. Potter plops on his back, already snoring as his head hits the pillow.

I stand there and watch as she takes off Potter’s shoes and tucks him under the covers.

“You two sleep in separate bedrooms?” The question is out before I can control my mouth.

“Separate—” Granger sputters. “Of course!”

I fold my arms over my chest. “That seems a bit conservative. I mean, you’re already living under the same roof.”

“Just because we live in the same house doesn’t mean we have to be on top of each other.”

I grimace at the mental picture.

She trains her curious gaze on me. “Wait, do you think Harry and I are… _together_?”

I tear my eyes away as heat crawls up my neck. “Aren’t you?”

Granger snorts. “Of course not!”

A sardonic smile pastes on my face. “You mean to tell me that Harry-sodding-Potter, whose path is paved with grateful witches’ knickers, lives with a beautiful woman  _platonically_?”

Her face crumples in revulsion. “ _Yech_ , I can’t even stomach the idea. That’s practically incestuous.”

“Malfoy,” Potter mumbles, eyes still closed. “If you’re going to hit on my best friend, please don’t do it in my bloody bedroom.”

Granger’s cheeks glow bright red. “Oh, Harry, he’s not making a pass at me—”

“Hermione, I love you, but get your head out of your arse.” Potter’s left eye cracks open. “The man’s hitting on you.”

“No, he’s not—”

“Actually,”—I meet her surprised look with a steadfast gaze—“I am. Now that I know you’re not sleeping with my boss,” I add, teasing.

“Oh.” She blinks, and a shy smile blooms on her lips. I stamp the urge to climb over Potter to get to her on the other side of the bed. “Well, I suppose—”

“ _Nooooope_. No, no, no. You are not going to explore whatever this is,”—he waves between us—“in my fucking bedroom. Get out, both you.”

“Harry—”

“Really, Potter—”

“There are thirty other rooms in this house.” He points to the door. “Go make doe eyes at each other in one of them. Just not here, or I’m going to throw up.”

With a shooing motion, he waves us both out of his room.

Granger closes the door behind us and leans against it. “Well—erm, Draco…” Her skin flushes a pretty pink as her words trail.

My lips quirk at the sound my name, so foreign and sweet coming from her. “How about a nightcap?” I offer. “Since my grand Christmas plans were ruined by lightweight Potter—”

“I can still hear you,” Potter yells through the door.

Granger laughs softly. “That’s a great idea.” She holds out a hand. “Wine? Grimmauld has a well-stocked cellar.”

With a genuine smile, I take her warm hand in mine. “Lead the way.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/Kudos are appreciated!
> 
> ***If you love reading humor fics, make sure to follow Riddikulus Fest 2019 at riddikulusfest.tumblr.com and riddikulus-fest.livejournal.com! 
> 
> If you're a writer, come and join us for this fun-filled fest! There are many great prompts for Dramione (and other ships). Check them out!***


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